In this woodland stretch shrouded by mystery, there is one thing amongst those that visit this place that is unquestionable – the Grimvale has earned its name. In a phenomenon that no visitor has ever managed to conclusively pin down, the vale is shrouded in a perpetual atmosphere of utter silence; no birds can be found singing in the trees high above, nor any woodland creatures scuffling about in the underbrush. Although there is evidence for plenty of life and activity left all around, those who return from its depths talk of the vale as if describing a graveyard more than a wood.
It has built up a reputation among the locals as a cursed place that men should not tread upon, with many stories of cult-related mass suicides, horrible transformations and unspeakable monsters cropping up occasionally, although never with any proof to back up any claims. Only the most foolish of hunters ever try their luck in finding the prey hidden within the twisted, gnarled roots of the ash and birch trees populating the vale, and even battle-hardened bandits refuse to set camp inside its grounds. The only people who are ever known to regularly visit these woods are foolhardy herbalists and poison crafters who search for rumours of unique plants that grow exclusively within the twisted woods, bringing anything from a swift death within seconds of ingestion, to healing powers far beyond anything known. Perhaps these rumours are exaggerated and fantasized. Perhaps not. If they can be found and handled by mortal hands then nobody has ever brought one back.